


It's a Mad, Mad World

by cywscross



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Language, Master of Death!Harry, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Souls are tricky things, especially when some don’t come on time and others come too early. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, Harry has to go find out what is wrong and fix it. It’s been a while since he’s walked amongst the living though, and even longer since he’s interacted with them. Still, he’ll have some fun poking around in the meantime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or One Piece.

                The last thing Kuzan remembered before darkness swallowed him was the ridiculous amount of effort he had had to put in for this fight alone, only for all of it to be in vain.  Served him right for going head-to-head against Akainu; but then, he _really_ hadn't wanted the bastard to win.

 

                And maybe, just maybe, a very tiny part of him chafed against the frustrating fact that he had _lost_.

 

                To _Akainu_.

 

                And then, after losing that last coherent thought to the tidal wave of agony washing over him, Kuzan had blinked, one slow blink that could've lasted a second or an eternity, and he’d found himself staring at a rocky wall the next time he could focus properly, sore from head to toe but nowhere near as dead as he’d thought he’d be.

 

                _“I won’t finish you off now; you could still be useful to the Navy.  If you make it back to Marine Headquarters, I’ll have your old post waiting for you.”_

 

                Kuzan inwardly scoffed.  Well that certainly wasn't happening.  He’d rather die than serve under Akainu.

 

                He shifted, wincing when his back and right side seared with pain.

 

                “You shouldn't move,” A mild voice interjected.  “Normal burns are nice and easy to heal but you just had to duke it out with a magma-wielding opponent.”

 

                Kuzan remained outwardly relaxed but he was already reaching for his innate power as someone padded into his line of sight and crouched down several feet away.

 

                Deceptively slender form, lightly muscled under the clothes – a fighter.  But the man didn't seem tensed for battle.

 

                Kuzan squinted and widened his observations after taking in the most important aspects.

 

                Messy black hair, green eyes, dressed mostly in greys with a black coat draped over his shoulders, younger than Kuzan by maybe one and a half decades or so.  Was the guy even thirty yet?

 

                “Finished?”  The stranger looked amused, especially with the serene smile on his face.  “I won’t hurt you.  Hardly productive after spending all that time patching you up.”

 

                Kuzan studied him for a moment longer before relinquishing his hold on the ice that had already been forming at his fingertips.  Normally, he’d be less concerned and less hasty to attack, but then again, normally, he wouldn't be laid out on his back and severely wounded.

 

                Or laid out on his side and severely wounded anyway.  He could admit that he was often laid out on his back and sleeping.

 

                He tried to roll off his left side, and then instantly regretted it when his right shoulder felt like it had been set on fire, and his left leg-

 

                He jerked, the beginning stirs of panic welling up inside him before he stomped it down and dredged up the memory of Akainu literally melting half his left leg off.

 

                Damn it.

 

                With a resigned sigh, Kuzan tightened his jaw and began pushing himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the pain flaring all along his neck, back, and right side.

 

                “You’re a really stubborn guy,” The stranger remarked, still watching him with a detached sort of interest.

 

                Kuzan grunted noncommittally.  “I'm really not.  But I’d like to see the damage for myself.”

 

                He flipped back the multiple blankets layered on top of him, giving his bandaged right hand a cursory glance in the process before letting his gaze fall on his disfigured leg.

 

                Cut off just above the knee, white bandages had been wrapped around the stump but Kuzan could still see the ragged edges of what would become a mass of burn scars once the injury had healed peeking out from underneath.

 

                He sighed again.  He supposed he should count himself lucky.  Akainu could've severed both his legs.  Maybe he could make a prosthetic of some sort with his ice?

 

                He made a valiant attempt at rearranging his legs, stilling his motions when his injuries instantly reacted and spiked his nerves with another harsh warning.

 

                “Like I said, you shouldn't move,” The stranger piped up again, sounding like he really couldn't care less either way.

 

                Kuzan glanced up once more, examining the other man in further detail.  “Who are you?”

 

                The stranger offered a bright, somewhat absentminded smile.  “I'm Harry.  And who are you?”

 

                Kuzan raised an eyebrow.  With the risk of sounding arrogant, who _hadn't_ heard of him these days, especially if they’d picked up a paper recently?  “You saved me but you have no idea who I am?”

 

                The man waved a dismissive hand in the air.  “I know you’re a Marine.  And I didn't necessarily _save_ you.  You might’ve survived if I had left you there.  Maybe.  You Devil Fruit users have much stronger constitutions than normal people.  Not fair really.  So, what do I call you?”

 

                Kuzan eyed him carefully, privately perplexed by the flippant rambling, and mentally made note of the fact that this man knew about Devil Fruits.  Then again, they _were_ on the Grand Line.  “...You can call me Aokiji.”

 

                Amusement flashed across Harry’s face.  “‘Aokiji’?  Blue Pheasant?  Haha!  You don’t look like a bird.”

 

                Kuzan was beginning to think he had been saved by someone with more than a few screws loose.  And when was the last time somebody had laughed at his epithet?

 

                He sighed a third time, grimacing when a surge of exhaustion swept over him and his eyesight went a bit hazy.  Sleeping through the rest of the week sounded like a good idea right about now.

 

                “What happened to Akainu?”  He enquired next, figuring he might as well get as much information as he could before he passed out.

 

“That’s the guy I was fighting,” He added when Harry cocked his head in a distinctly inquisitive manner.

 

                “Oh, the magma guy calls himself Red Dog?  You Marines are so weird,” The man ran an absent hand through his hair.  “He was really injured too but he had both his legs so he managed to hobble back to his ship.  His arm was still frozen though.”

 

                So Akainu had been well enough to walk away.  Still, Kuzan specifically remembered freezing the man’s entire left arm, powerful enough to seal off Akainu’s magma in that part of his body for a while.  It was just too bad Kuzan hadn't managed to shatter it as well, but at least it would take his colleague some time to fully recover.

 

                “Where are we?”  He prompted next, scanning his surroundings again.  It was a cave of some sort, and he could hear the howling winds of a blizzard outside.

 

                “Still on the same island,” Harry rocked back on his heels.  “You two changed the weather in this place.”

                Kuzan could believe that.  Even before the end of their battle ( _ten straight days_ ; he hadn't fought that hard in a very, _very_ long time), half the island had been set ablaze and the other half had been frozen solid.

 

                His thoughts were interrupted by a fit of coughs, which only served to enhance the pain from his wounds even more.

 

                Never again.  Short of the apocalypse, he was never fighting Akainu again.  The man was his polar opposite in everything from powers to morals; it was just too much of a hassle to battle seriously against the other admiral.

 

                Or Fleet Admiral by now.

 

                “How long have I been unconscious?”  Kuzan managed hoarsely once his coughing had subsided, black dots appearing in his vision instead.

 

                “Three days, give or take,” Harry hopped – literally hopped; what was he, ten? – closer and poked his undamaged shoulder.  “Go back to sleep.  You weren’t supposed to wake up for another two days.”

 

                Kuzan frowned, still trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture even as he reluctantly allowed Harry to prod him back into lying down again.

 

                Oh yeah, he realized as blissful oblivion dragged him under once more.

 

                Punk Hazard had been evacuated for the battle between Akainu and himself.

 

                So what was this person – who had actually witnessed the fight – doing here, and how had he survived the ten-day clash of magma against ice that had raged across this island?

 

**{1}**

 

                When he woke up again, Kuzan was feeling significantly better.  And hungry.  More importantly though, he could hear someone talking on his right, seemingly holding a one-sided conversation.

 

                “-if I gave the man enough money?  ...But I don’t like reading people’s minds when I don’t have to; it’s annoying.  ...Well, I guess he might’ve looked greedy.  ...What do you mean I look like an easy mark?”

 

                Kuzan cracked open an eye, quickly recognizing Harry sitting cross-legged beside him.  There was no one else around, yet the odd man was looking to the side and chatting away, complete with pauses as if he was listening to someone’s replies.

 

                Wonderful.  Either there was a Devil Fruit at work here or Kuzan really had been saved by somebody not quite sane.

 

                “Oh, you're awake, Kiji!”

 

                What?

 

                “What?”  He grunted, not sure he wanted Harry to repeat himself.

 

                Harry only smiled benignly at him as if all was right in the world.  The green-eyed oddity leaned forward and tugged Kuzan into a sitting position.  To Kuzan’s surprise, the only thing that still ached was the stump of his left leg, which, coincidentally, was no longer bandaged, leaving a mass of scars but no wound.

 

                “Blue Pheasant’s too long,” Harry said by way of explanation.  “So I’ll just call you Pheasant.”

 

                Kuzan stared dubiously at the serene expression next to him for a few seconds before shaking his head.  Well, Harry _had_ saved his life.  If the younger man wanted to call him Kiji, who was he to complain?

 

                “Hungry?”

 

                For the first time, Kuzan took in the three baskets sitting behind Harry, all of them filled to the brim with food.  “...How much did this cost?”

 

                Harry frowned and glanced briefly to the side again before turning back.  “I'm not sure.  I just gave the vendors some of those paper bills.  They were very happy to give all this to me.”

 

                Kuzan stared for a long moment before heaving a sigh.  He had a funny feeling that Harry had overpaid.  Actually... “ _Where_ did you find these vendors?”

 

                Harry looked puzzled this time.  “In a town.  At the market stalls.  Where else would you find vendors?”

 

                Kuzan rubbed a hand over his eyes.  There were no towns on Punk Hazard, much less market stalls.  “...And how long have I been out this time?”

 

                “Another two days,” Harry reported briskly.  “So you must be starving.  Eat.  I promise I haven’t poisoned it.”

 

                That thought actually hadn't even crossed Kuzan’s mind but he said nothing, much more occupied by the fact that Harry had crooked a finger and the three baskets were now drifting his way, floating in the air without help.

 

                On average, Punk Hazard was two days away from the nearest island.  Even on the fastest warship that the Navy could provide, with good winds, no distractions, and a Log Pose, it would still take at least three days altogether to reach any proper civilization in addition to making the round trip back.  Kuzan, with the luxury of foregoing any type of watercraft and his ability to bypass most currents, might perhaps be able to make it there and back within two days.

 

                So which town was Harry talking about, and what kind of Devil Fruit would allow him to jump back and forth in a few days?  Something to do with teleportation?  Or could he make things, including himself, fly?  That would certainly explain how the baskets were moving through the air.

 

                “Alright,” Kuzan reached for an apple.  “Do you know... anything about the currency?”

 

                As bizarre as it sounded, the question still felt like a reasonable next step.

 

                Harry blinked at him before reaching into his cloak and withdrawing a single beli, waving the bill in the air.  “They look like this, right?”

 

                Well, at least Harry got that part right.  Kuzan had almost expected him to take out a bar of gold or something.

 

                “Alright, and how much of that did you give the vendors?”  He pursued next.

 

                “Umm...” Harry reached into his cloak again (Kuzan could swear there weren’t any pockets in it) and withdrew several stacks of bills this time, enough to pay for three weeks’ worth of food.  “About this much, I think.  Why?”

 

                Kuzan polished off the apple and mentally calculated how much money he had stored away in his office.  The rest was packed away in various locations, none of them very close, but he’d also get a retirement pension once he turned in his resignation, and that alone would be enough to live off of for ten to fifteen years.  Say what you will about the Navy but at least they paid well.

 

                “Okay,” Kuzan snagged one of the baskets out of the air because it was frankly distracting before grabbing more food to fill his stomach.  No sustenance for fifteen days, ten of those spent overexerting himself – if he wasn't a Devil Fruit user, he would've died in less than half that time.

 

                “I’ll pay you back once I get my hands on some cash,” Kuzan promised after swallowing some water.  “And I suppose I owe you one now.”

 

                He paused when Harry only tilted his head, studying Kuzan with a vaguely eerie gaze.  Kuzan instinctively tensed.

 

                “Easy come, easy go; I don’t need any of your money,” Harry just said, tucking his beli away before resting his elbows on his thighs.  “And I chose to help you; you didn't ask for it.  Thus, you owe me nothing.”

                Kuzan frowned at this logic.  “Still-”

 

                “Some advice, Kiji,” Harry smiled, sharp and sudden.  “Don't make such vague promises when it comes to favours, especially to people you don’t know.  Debts can be... terribly binding.”

 

                Just as abruptly, his expression faded back into the same absentmindedness as before, leaving Kuzan wondering if this guy was bipolar.  Judging by physique alone, Harry could fight, but for the most part, he looked relatively harmless.  Up until a second ago, Kuzan had thought that if push came to shove, he wouldn't have too much trouble freezing the younger man.

 

                Outwardly, he sighed again.  Damn, he was sighing a lot.  And he’d thought the _Gorosei_ was troublesome, always trying to keep him in Marine Headquarters and never letting him travel anywhere.  He knew he should’ve turned down the promotion to admiral; that was what Garp had been doing for decades, though the man had finally retired now.  Who would've known that Kuzan would be doing the exact same thing only half a year later?

 

                “Still,” Kuzan said aloud when Harry’s attention wavered to the side again.  “I insist.”

 

                He took debts seriously.  The one he owed Garp had yet to be paid but Kuzan was fully prepared to pay it anytime the ex-Marine asked it of him.

 

                Harry turned back, looking almost amused now.

 

                “I think I was right the first time,” He mused out loud.  “You’re a stubborn guy.”

 

                Kuzan wanted to dispute this; under normal circumstances, he’d mostly just go with the flow and leave the tough decisions to other people, but there was nothing normal about this situation.  It wasn't every day someone – A recluse maybe?  Harry seemed more ignorant (ridiculously ignorant) and childish than downright insane. – saved him, and he could barely remember the last time he had gotten hurt enough to warrant serious medical attention; certainly not since he had made vice-admiral.

 

                (That was another thing actually – was Harry a doctor?  He had to at least have some medical knowledge to know how and when to clean wounds and change bandages, but that didn't explain how Kuzan’s injuries – critical burns – had all either healed or receded into tender scabs and scars in five days’ time.  Devil Fruit users – or people with Haki – healed at a faster rate but not _this_ fast.)

 

                “Then...” Harry’s expression took on a thoughtful edge.  “Actually, I don’t really need anything, least of all money.  ...You’re a Marine though.  Can you get into the... um... that place where that massacre took place?”

 

                Kuzan stilled.  “‘Massacre’?  You mean the war at Marineford a year ago?”

 

                “Is that what you’d call it?”  Harry enquired placidly.  “Yes, that.”

 

                “...I can get in; any Marine can, and I'm an admiral,” Kuzan paused.  “Why do you call it a massacre?”

 

                Harry blinked.  “Six hundred and fifty-seven souls passed on; I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, it is not such a big number-”

 

                “The number was never released,” Kuzan interjected tersely, wary and confused.  Why not just say ‘dead’?  Why say ‘passed on’?  And why ‘souls’ and not simply ‘people’?  Not to mention Harry hadn't distinguished Marines from pirates; most people who sided with the Navy would lean towards the number of dead officers while those who sided against them would sympathize with the number of dead pirates.  Harry had grouped them altogether.  “And the death toll was six hundred and fifty-eight altogether, Marines and pirates, but you’re close.  How do you know that?”

 

                “Six hundred and fifty- _seven_ ,” Harry corrected stubbornly before smiling again, vague and secretive.  “I just do.  Can you get me in?”

 

                “...Depends,” Kuzan allowed carefully.  “Why do you want to get in?”

 

                “I'm looking for something,” Something dark and foreboding flickered across Harry’s face.  “Several somethings actually.  That place is as good a start as any.”

                Kuzan narrowed his eyes.  “Stealing from Marines then?”

 

                Green eyes sharpened, the happy-go-lucky persona melting away once more.  “They’re mine!  They belong to me!  I shouldn't even have to go hunting for them!  Someone is keeping them from me!”

 

                All at once, Harry shot fluidly to his feet, pacing the length of the cave.  As Kuzan looked on, the younger man’s gaze flitted to an empty patch of ground.  “You shut up!  You're no help at all!  Shouldn't you know where they are in the first place?”

 

                Oh great; maybe there was some insanity mixed into this man’s psyche after all.

 

                “So you’re not going to steal from anyone?” Kuzan verified, attempting to get Harry to focus on the topic at hand again.  “And you won’t be harming anyone if I take you there?”

                Harry’s strides slowed to a stop though he didn't sit down again.  “No, probably not.  What I'm looking for isn’t there.  That place is just a starting point.”

 

                “...I see,” Kuzan didn’t, but what the heck.  Harry didn't sound like he was lying, and- “I need to make a trip back there myself to turn in my resignation.  How long do you need to be there for?”

 

                Harry hummed contemplatively.  “Fifteen minutes or so.  I just need to look at the battlefield.”

 

                Well that didn't sound so bad.  Kuzan could bring the man with him, leave him in broad daylight in the central plaza where at least two dozen Marines would be able to see him at all times while Kuzan himself would make a quick trip to Sengo- no, _Akainu’s_ office to drop off his resignation letter, as well as stop by his own office and private quarters to gather his personal belongings before returning to pick up Harry.  All told, that would take about twenty to thirty minutes, more than enough time for both of them to wrap up their business.

 

                “Fine,” Kuzan agreed at last.  “I can get you inside.  I’ll probably need about half an hour to finish my own business.”

 

                Harry was all smiles again.  “Fantastic.  After that, we’ll call us even.”

 

That still didn't seem quite fair to Kuzan if all Harry really wanted was a glimpse of Marineford but he didn't have time to argue his point again before the younger man was asking, “Why are you resigning?  You said you’re an admiral; that’s pretty high up, isn’t it?”

 

“Aa,” Kuzan nodded but wasn't all that inclined to say anymore.  “Maa, I have my reasons.”

 

“Hmm,” Harry shrugged easily.  “Okay then.  Well, I'm going to go out for a bit.  Eat and then get some more rest.  You're not to move for another day.”

 

And with that semi-order, the man swept for the cave entrance, cloak flapping behind him as he waved a hand in the air and said in the general direction of the same spot as before, “Come on, if I have to wade through all that snow, so do you.  ...Oh yeah, we can fly, can’t we?  That’s handy.  ...I just forgot!  There’s no need to be insulting!”

 

Kuzan watched the man leave before turning back to the food.  He would've asked who exactly Harry thought he was talking to but he didn't think he’d get much of a straight answer, or at least not one that would make any more sense than just about everything else Harry had told him, not to mention that Kuzan couldn't pick up any other presences in the first place.  Even if they were invisible, he was relatively confident in his ability to sense anybody in his vicinity.

 

All in all though, the younger man wasn't that bad.  He didn't seem to be a pirate – certainly not a Wanted one at least or Kuzan would've recognized him – and even if he was, it wasn't any of Kuzan’s concern any longer.

 

He stopped mid-chew as that thought finally sunk in.  He’d been a Marine for a good long chunk of his existence; it would be... interesting to see what life would be like with no obligations and laws (that he didn't always agree with) to follow.  Perhaps refreshing too.

 

His gaze involuntarily shifted to what was left of his severed leg.  He’d still be able to walk with the aid of his ice but he’d probably have to stay away from hot places, especially for the first few months when he would have to get used to constantly having his Devil Fruit power activated.

 

Still, things could be worse.  He could be dead, for one, though to be honest, he really hadn't expected to live the moment Akainu had managed to force him flat on his back and he had realized that he hadn't had enough energy to conjure more ice to defend himself.  He had wholly believed that Akainu would finish him off.  It was supposed to be a duel to the _death_ after all.

 

So it was a good thing that Kuzan didn't buy into the whole ‘take offense when your opponents spared you’ spiel (it was a waste of energy, not to mention his policy was that if you’re spared in battle, survive to live another day and either make sure you don’t get into another fight with the same person or make sure you win next time), but it still displeased him, even now, that he had lost to Akainu of all people.  Kuzan had always believed the two of them to be on moderately equal footing – along with Kizaru – even though he was the youngest of the three admirals by several years but he supposed this duel just proved that he was definitely weaker than Akainu.

 

That fact was probably going to hound him for a while, especially with a permanent physical reminder staring him in the face day in and day out.

 

                But he was alive, and Akainu’s face might be interesting when Kuzan dumped his resignation on his desk.  That at least was something to look forward to.

 

**{1}**

 

                “ _What_ kind of Devil Fruit power do you have?”  Kuzan asked in utter disbelief when he stepped back into the cave and found Harry sitting in the _air_ like it was some sort of invisible chair, legs swinging languidly under him.

 

                He had had to step back into the cave not because he had stepped outside.  No, it was because he had, inevitably, had to go to the bathroom, and no sooner had that thought entered his mind when a red door had appeared several feet away marked _Bathroom_ in cursive lettering.

 

                Kuzan had stared for a full minute before hoisting himself onto his feet, using his ice to form a makeshift prosthetic for his left leg before hobbling unsteadily to the door.  It was harder than he had thought it would be since he didn't have the balance down yet, and he would have to experiment with how much ice to use so that it wouldn't crack but would also be adaptable enough to allow him to walk properly.  For now, he would just have to limp.

 

                Cautiously, he had pushed open the door, ready to attack in case something jumped out at him, but to his astonishment, all he’d found was a pristine bathroom facility, complete with a sink, a toilet, and even a bathtub with golden taps and an array of soaps, shampoo, and shaving cream (plus a shaver of course).  There was even a damn hairdryer in one corner and a toothbrush and toothpaste in another.

 

                Kuzan had, understandably, honestly wondered if he had actually fallen into a coma and was having some sort of bizarre dream in the process.

 

                “Devil Fruit power?”  Harry snickered, leaning back now as if he was lounging in a deck chair.  “Don’t be silly; I don’t have any.”

 

                Kuzan ignored the fact that he had just been called silly and craned his head around to squint dubiously at the bathroom behind him.  From the outside, it was just a door.  There was nothing behind the door to even hint at anything inside.  If that wasn't the work of a Devil Fruit power, then what was it?

 

                For the umpteenth time since he had first woken up, Kuzan sighed.  Well, he wasn't one to kick up a fuss about a few – make that a few dozen – unanswered questions, and it would all be out of his hands soon anyway.  All he had to do was take Harry to Marineford for half an hour and then they would part ways, never to meet again.

 

                “Well, you should get some more rest,” Harry interjected, hopping out of his invisible chair and landing lightly on the balls of his feet half a foot above the ground.

 

Kuzan’s eyebrow twitched.

 

“I want to explore some more,” Harry continued obliviously.  “I’ll be back again soon, okay?  Don’t wander off.”

 

And before Kuzan could feel more than a spark of annoyance at being told not to ‘wander off’, Harry skipped out of the cave once more, singing in a not half-bad voice:

 

_“Double, double, toil and trouble;_

_Fire burn and cauldron bubble._

_Double, double, toil and trouble;_

_Something wicked this way comes!_ ”

 

Kuzan shook his head as he eased himself back onto the – now that he looked – mattress.  He supposed he should give thanks that while the person who had saved him had clearly gone round the bend, at least they weren’t dangerously so.

 

That had to count for something.

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or One Piece.
> 
> Author’s Notes: Only a few people’s guessed something along the lines of where I’ll be taking thisXD I’ll say this though: Harry’s not looking for the Deathly Hallows (they’re his; even if he loses them, they’ll go back to him). Summary implies that there’s a mix-up of souls out there *hinthint*:)  
> And yes, that last excerpt in the last chapter was from MacbethXD

                “Oi, Harry, come _on_ , stop running around.  If you fall into the sea and end up drowning, I'm not pulling you out.”

 

                That was a bald-faced lie but Kuzan figured he could be forgiven.  He was having a hard enough time maintaining his ice-made prosthetic as well as freezing a path across the ocean for them to walk on.  Add to that the fact that Harry seemed to be high on sugar or caffeine or something equally troublesome – was he really an adult? – and was scurrying from one side of the frozen path to the other with increasing frenzy and childish fascination, and Kuzan was about ready to throw _himself_ into the sea.

 

                He still wasn't entirely convinced that Harry wasn't a Devil Fruit user, and he didn't feel like testing it by dumping the man into the ocean only to have to haul him out again if he really did start drowning so Kuzan was doing his level best to keep Harry on the ice path, which was a chore and a half all on its own.

 

                And on top of all that, Kuzan didn't even have his bike to make things a little easier on himself.  Instead, he had to settle for limping along awkwardly, fumbling for balance every dozen steps.

 

                (He was half-tempted to ask Harry if he could... _float_ or _fly_ them to Marineford, but the younger man had already helped him plenty, and while Kuzan honoured debts, he wasn't in the habit of going out of his way to acquire them.)

 

                He grimaced and pulled to a stop as the ice acting as his leg cracked once again when his attention wavered and his makeshift foot came down at an uncomfortable angle.

 

                He tugged up his left pant leg (Harry had even given him a new stack of clothes, go figure; his Marine uniform had been burnt and torn beyond repair) and observed the minute fractures before sending a new wave of ice crawling downwards to fill in the cracks.

 

                “Kiji!  The road is melting!”

 

                Kuzan glanced up, cautiously placing his foot back down as he repaired the road in front of them.

 

                “Don’t run ahead,” He warned as Harry _ran ahead_.  He released a long-suffering sigh and comforted himself with mental images of Akainu combusting from apoplectic rage if the now-fleet-admiral ever had to deal with Harry.

 

                Kuzan perked up.  There was a thought.  He wondered what would happen if he brought Harry with him when he went to turn in his resignation.  At the very least, Akainu would probably end up melting his office.

 

                Kuzan smothered a snicker.  Pity.  And Marineford had just finished repairs too.

 

                With a shake of his head, he set off after Harry, occasionally calling out reprimands and raising the sides of the ice road a little in the form of a wall whenever it looked like the younger man might fall into the water.

 

                Honestly, just how old did Harry think he was?  Why did it feel like he was taking care of a kid?

 

**{2}**

 

                A ridiculously exhausting four hours later, Kuzan admitted defeat and insisted on a break, almost stumbling when he sat down with none of his usual grace.  He allowed the ice prosthetic to dissipate, gritting his teeth against the ache in the stump of his leg and the way the rest of him felt more than a little shaky.  He still wasn’t fully recovered from last week’s battle.  Harry had warned him that a few more days of rest would be best but Kuzan hadn't wanted to wait.  He didn't want Akainu to feel too smug about their duel, not to mention he didn't want his men all thinking he was dead.  Of course, they wouldn't be under his command for much longer, but it was the principle of the matter.

 

                “Stubborn,” Harry remarked as he – thankfully – flopped down beside Kuzan instead of running around some more.  “I thought you would've stopped three hours ago.”

 

                Kuzan couldn't be bothered to stir up anything more than a grunt of acknowledgement, although he did add, “Quit calling me stubborn.  You might give people heart attacks if someone back at base hears you.”

 

                Harry teetered forward, peering up at him (the kid impression only increased due to their height difference), and Kuzan made a long arm and hauled him back by the scruff of his cloak and away from the edge of the water.

 

“Stop that,” He grumbled wearily.

 

Harry paid him absolutely no mind (the younger man would make a terrible Marine officer).  “What, are you supposed to be really lazy or something?  You were fighting really hard against that Doggy-guy.”

 

Kuzan coughed to cover up the sudden bark of laughter that welled up in his throat at the nickname.  He kept a straight face as he returned dryly, “If I hadn't fought hard, I would've died.”

 

Harry blinked, and then, oddly enough, his eyes flicked down to Kuzan’s chest, intent and pensive, before focusing on him again.

 

“Yeah, probably,” Harry agreed disconcertingly.  “But it’s not your time to pass on yet.  Good thing you fought hard then, Kiji.”

 

And without waiting for a reply, Harry was up and off again, bounding to the farthest point that Kuzan’s ice road extended (which wasn't very far at all; the whole thing looked more like an ice floe than anything else).

 

“We are travelling a bit slow, aren’t we?”  Harry’s voice sounded, and it took Kuzan a moment to realize that he was talking to his imaginary friend again.  “...He’s still injured though; it’s no use hurrying him.  ...Aren’t you supposed to be the epitome of patience or something?  ...Oh, well I suppose anyone would get tired of waiting sometimes.  ...Hey, I'm doing all the work here; don’t complain!”

 

Kuzan squinted at the air around Harry.  He still couldn't sense anything; there was no one there.

 

“Harry,” He prompted, curiosity getting the better of him at last.  “Who are you talking to?”

 

Harry glanced back, green eyes glittering.  His features twisted into something more wistful before crooning out in low tones,

 

_“Still it haunts me, how time flies!_

_Forever dwelling under skies,_

_Never seen by living eyes,_

_For man and monster, in wait it lies.”_

 

Kuzan blinked before heaving a sigh and dropping his head into one hand.  “Has anyone ever told you that you are distinctly unsettling and either unhelpfully cryptic or plain crazy?”

 

The previous melancholy in Harry’s expression disappeared in the blink of an eye as he cackled gleefully.  If anything, Harry just looked delighted at Kuzan’s assessment.

 

“Well where would be the fun in simply telling you straight?”  Harry leapt up again ( _where_ did he get all that energy from?) and pelted past Kuzan to the back of the ice floe.  “I like you, Kiji, so I’ll help you out some more.  Besides, if we wait for you to recover, we’ll still be on the ocean a month from now!”

 

Kuzan made an indignant noise at the back of his throat but he had no time to protest before Harry snapped his fingers, and the glacial mass they were sitting on abruptly shot forward.

 

Kuzan bit back an uncharacteristic curse as he almost toppled overboard before he managed to anchor himself to the floe with another gush of solid ice.  And then he could only watch in subtle astonishment as they sped over the ocean like some sort of high-speed motorboat.

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” He muttered in disbelief, tilting his head back to eye his temporary companion critically.

 

Harry just laughed wildly, sounding like he was having the time of his life as their pace picked up even more until they were literally flying _above_ the water with the force of their momentum (or it could be that Harry was making them fly; Kuzan wouldn't know).  At this rate, Kuzan expected them to be at Marineford by late afternoon.

 

“I need directions, Kiji!”  Harry’s voice rose above the whistle of the wind.  “I can’t tell North from South in this world.”

Kuzan quirked a wry smile.  “That’s because you need a Log Pose, especially in the New World.  Even I can get turned around in these waters, and my Log Pose was destroyed in the battle.  It’s lucky we’re mostly travelling in a straight line from Punk Hazard to Marineford.  Just keep going this way; we'll have to watch out for the Red Line but we’ll get there eventually.”

 

Harry responded with a wordless affirmative, and with a huff of dubious amusement, Kuzan sprawled backwards onto the ice, tucking an arm under his head as they hurtled towards their destination, cool sea breeze curling around them as they soared through the sky.

 

This really wasn't a bad way to travel.

 

**{2}**

 

                He took it back.  This was a terrible way to travel.

 

                “Harry, you have to slow down!”  Kuzan shouted as he watched with no small amount of trepidation as numerous cannons were levelled at them and the G-1 Marine Base loomed closer and closer as they raced towards it.

 

                “I can’t!”  Harry yelled back with far too much good humour in Kuzan’s opinion.

 

                “Why not?”  Kuzan levered himself to his feet (or foot now), hastily creating the needed prosthetic leg again.

 

                “Because if we stop, we’ll get fired on,” Harry told him cheerfully.

 

                “If we keep going, we’ll also be fired on,” Kuzan argued back, limping forward to stand beside Harry.  What was wrong with those officers anyway?  Ice was _his_ signature power; shouldn't they recognize him at this point?  Then again, half the Navy’s unofficial protocol when dealing with potential enemies – basically pirates – was fire first, ask questions later.

 

                And come to think of it, now that Akainu was in charge, that protocol might just change to fire first, ask questions never.

 

                “Yes, but if we’re moving, we’ll be harder to target,” Harry reasoned logically.

 

                Kuzan pinched the bridge of his nose, and then extended a hand and sent a wave of ice at three oncoming cannonballs.  They dropped like rocks, plunging into the ocean with multiple heavy splashes.

 

                “Alright, hang on,” Kuzan instructed, reaching out and grabbing Harry by the back of his cloak before forming several chunks of ice in front of him and taking off from the floe in two quick strides, leaping from falling iceberg to falling iceberg as gravity started pulling them downwards.

 

                It took five jumps, and Kuzan grimaced every time his left leg gave a little when he had to push off of it, but he made it safely onto the ramparts of the walls surrounding Marineford. With Harry still dangling securely in his grip, and ignoring the stunned looks of awe around him as he landed amongst the many officers on patrol, Kuzan vaulted down from the battlements and landed in the central plaza, skidding a little as he fought for balance.  Not his best landing, but all things considered, Kuzan would give himself a pat on the back for not letting his left leg collapse completely.

 

                “Hahaha!  That was fun!”  Harry crowed as Kuzan lowered him none-too-gently back onto flat ground.  “But you said to hang on, Kiji, and I didn't really have to.”

 

                Kuzan resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest hard surface; he couldn't decide whether he was more amused or annoyed.

 

                “Kuzan!”

 

                Kuzan glanced to the left, blinking in surprise when he spotted Garp striding towards him with Sengoku not far behind.

 

                Both officers had announced their retirement shortly after the end of the war a year ago, but neither had really left Marineford until only six months ago, Garp back to his hometown (with occasional trips to a Marine base to train the new recruits), and Sengoku to the new Marine Headquarters stationed in the New World.

 

                The upper management had hummed and hawed and hadn't gotten around to deciding on a duel between Kuzan and Akainu until a few weeks ago, which was why the fleet admiral position had remained relatively vacant for half a year now.  More than one person would be relieved that it was filled at last.

 

                “Garp-san, Sengoku-san,” Kuzan nodded at them, surreptitiously shifting his weight off his bad leg as he kept one eye on Harry, who had picked himself up and was looking around with a headache-inducing amount of interest.  “I didn't know you were coming to visit.”

 

                Garp waved a dismissive hand as the two retired officers stopped in front of him.  Both were in uniform, though without the Marine coats, and Sengoku had forgone his seagull cap.

 

                “We only just arrived this morning,” Garp told him, the older man’s usual carefree attitude not quite hiding the lingering grief over his adopted grandson’s death from Kuzan’s swift onceover.

 

                Kuzan glanced away and steadfastly refused to feel guilty.  He knew he had indirectly played a part in Portgas D. Ace’s death; if he hadn't delayed those two brothers’ bid for freedom, Akainu probably wouldn't have been able to deal that fatal blow against Fire Fist when the Mugiwara boy had been in trouble.  Then again, there was no telling whether or not Akainu would've caught up to them even if Kuzan hadn't stepped in the way.

 

                But they had been pirates, and it had been Kuzan’s job to stop them.  Garp was one of the handful of people he truly respected, and he could even go so far as to say that he – grudgingly – admired Garp’s youngest – and now only – grandson’s sheer guts for taking on first the World Government for Nico Robin, and then, if Kizaru’s word could be trusted (and it could in this matter), punching a World Noble for a Fishman, and then finally storming Impel Down and taking on the entire Navy all for his brother, but that still wasn't enough for Kuzan to go against his beliefs.  Pirates were the Marines’ enemies; Kuzan wasn't so soft as to forget that standpoint even in the face of tearing a family apart.  Hell, he’d killed his closest friend over that damned Ohara incident all those years ago, enough said.

 

                (Still, a part of Kuzan was thankful that he hadn't been the one to kill Fire Fist.  He was fairly certain that Garp would never have been able to even look at him ever again if that had happened.  As it was, every single officer who had taken part in the war and had witnessed Garp trying to kill Akainu with his bare hands were all very, very careful to never leave the former vice-admiral in a room alone with Akainu.  Akainu at least had the good sense to avoid interactions with Garp as much as possible.)

 

                So Kuzan didn't feel guilty, not in the slightest.

 

                “We figured we should throw in our best wishes for the next fleet admiral,” Garp was explaining candidly.  “It’s too bad Akainu won the rank.”

 

                “Garp,” Sengoku interjected, a note of stern admonishment in his voice even though Kuzan knew for a fact that it had been Sengoku who had nominated him for the position in the first place.  “Sakazuki is fleet admiral now.  Watch your words.”

 

                Garp snorted loudly but refrained from saying anything else as he scanned Kuzan up and down, gaze lingering on parts of the scars that Kuzan’s shirt couldn't quite hide before moving down briefly to take in the foot made of ice currently planted lightly against the stone floor.  Kuzan hadn't bothered wearing more than one shoe.

 

                “We were just about to go look for you actually,” Garp revealed, scratching his head as he gestured back at the G-1 Base.  “Your officers are frantic by the way, but they didn't have the clearance to set sail for Punk Hazard so they couldn't come after you.”

 

                A grin made its way onto Garp’s face.  “There’ve been fights amongst the lower ranks between your men and Akainu’s men.  And Kizaru’s men have been kicking back and watching the show.”

 

                Kuzan exhaled in resigned exasperation.  “I suppose I’ll have to break it up.”

 

                Garp chuckled and Sengoku shook his head in that I’ve-seen-it-all-before-and-the-only-reason-I-care-enough-to-wade-into-your-mess-is-because-I'm-being-paid-to-care manner that Kuzan had noticed several times over the years.  Although lately, ever since Sengoku had resigned, the motion had become more of an I'm-resigned-now-with-a-hefty-pension-so-go-bother-someone-else-with-your-bullshit sort of headshake.

 

                Kuzan mentally frowned at his random thoughts.  He wondered if whatever Harry had was contagious.

 

                “Sakazuki looks worse than you do though,” Sengoku examined Kuzan sharply.  “He’s out of the medical wing but the doctor advised bed rest, or at least not to walk around so much.  They finally melted the ice freezing his arm though.”

 

                Kuzan had to bite back a satisfied smile.  “I was lucky after the battle; I had some help.”

 

                “Oh?”  Garp’s attention finally shifted to Harry, who was, miraculously enough, still at Kuzan’s side.  “Help, huh?  I'm guessing that’s how you picked up this guy?”

 

                Sengoku was also examining Harry closely, glancing speculatively between him and the direction that Kuzan and Harry had come flying in from.

 

                “Aa,” Kuzan nudged Harry’s shoulder to catch his attention.  It still took a few seconds before the younger man focused on the two ex-Marines in front of them with a vague smile.  “This is Harry.  Harry, these are retired Marine officers, Garp-san and Sengoku-san.”

 

                “Hello!”  Harry greeted them brightly.  “You've retired too?  It feels like everybody’s doing that these days.  You're not _that_ old though, but I guess you don’t have to be really old to retire.”

 

Kuzan watched as Garp and Sengoku exchanged a glance and seemed to come to a silent conclusion over Harry’s... _fragile_ mental state.  The latter offered a noncommittal nod and a slightly stiff smile while the former grinned again, wide and friendly as usual but with a touch of gentleness entering the expression.

 

For some strange reason, Kuzan had to stifle the impulse to rebuke his former colleagues.  He’d be the first to agree that Harry wasn't completely sane but that didn't mean the younger man was mentally deficient either.  He understood Kuzan perfectly fine no matter what was being said, and while he made Kuzan feel like he was taking care of a child most of the time, Harry certainly wasn't helpless.

 

Of course, Kuzan had only figured that out after spending some time in Harry’s company (and being forced to rely on Harry when he had been mostly unable to move) so he supposed Garp and Sengoku’s reactions were relatively normal.

 

“Hi there!”  Garp said boisterously.  “You saved Kuzan over here?  You have my thanks; he’s an entertaining guy, and it would be a shame if he kicked the bucket so early.”

 

Harry snickered as Kuzan inwardly rolled his eyes.  Wonderful; he really shouldn't have introduced these two to each other.

 

So before things could get too out of hand, Kuzan cut in by prodding Harry in the general direction of the rest of the plaza.  “There you have it; we’re standing in the Oris Plaza where the war took place.  This is what you wanted to see, right?”

 

It worked.  Harry’s attention was instantly drawn to their surroundings again.  “Mm, yeah, this is it.”

 

“Okay,” Ignoring the puzzled expressions from Garp and Sengoku, Kuzan pushed Harry forward.  “Go... do whatever it is you wanted to do here.  I’ll come back and pick you up in half an hour.”

 

Harry flashed him a brilliant grin before bouncing off without a care in the world, his not-Devil-Fruit powers taking him into the air as if there were invisible platforms all around the area.

 

Belatedly, Kuzan hollered after him, “Stay in the plaza though!”

 

He paused, and then added for good measure, “And don’t do anything crazy!”

 

This came a second too late as Harry, now at least a dozen feet off the ground, suddenly did a swan dive back towards the earth, causing about ten different people to gasp and several more to scream.

 

Kuzan facepalmed as Harry’s descent halted half a foot above the ground, the younger man’s uncontrolled laughter echoing around the plaza.

 

“He’s a Devil Fruit user, Kuzan?”  Sengoku interrupted his silent lament.

 

Kuzan shrugged tiredly.  “I... don’t know.  I asked, but he said he wasn't one.  However, as you can see, he’s not all there either.  But he healed me in record time, and in return, he said he wanted to take a look around here.  I figured that wouldn't hurt anyone.”

 

Sengoku looked mildly thoughtful as they stared after Harry.  “Well, if he just wants to look... But he healed you, and now he’s flying...?”

 

Kuzan shook his head.  “They're most likely related somehow, but yes, he can make things fly.  You saw how we came in on the ice floe.”

 

“Now that was what I’d call an entrance,” Garp chortled.  “Don’t blame the officers for trying to shoot you down though; don’t think they recognized you since you don’t usually come in that way.  It’s a new policy Akainu’s put into action: anyone or anything without clear license to enter a Marine base are to be shot down without question.  Apparently, it’s supposed to help prevent more intruders like the Whitebeard Pirates – get ’em before they even come close.”

 

Kuzan frowned but said nothing.  He had no say in anything anymore.

 

“Well, I guess I should go see Akainu,” Kuzan gingerly reinforced his leg once more before starting forward.  Both Garp and Sengoku fell into step beside him.

 

“No verbal brawls in the near future, I hope,” Sengoku remarked sardonically.

 

Kuzan raised an eyebrow.  “That’s not like me, Sengoku-san.  Don’t worry; I’ll offer my own condolences.  ...I mean congratulations.”

Garp guffawed and Sengoku heaved a tolerant sigh.

 

“At least you’ll remain an admiral,” Sengoku continued.  “You and Kizaru will be good for morale, and-”

 

“Sorry, Sengoku-san,” Kuzan interrupted, still staring straight ahead.  “But I’m resigning as of today.”

 

Sengoku’s head snapped to the side, and Kuzan could feel his former commanding officer’s gaze drill into him, looking for any holes in his conviction.  On his other side, Garp was unexpectedly quiet, a knowing expression etched on his face.

 

“...I see,” Sengoku said at last.  “I don’t suppose you would reconsider?”

 

Kuzan shook his head.  Garp clapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Let him be, Sengoku,” The man advised.  “And you owe me a hundred beli.”

 

Kuzan did look at the two ex-Marines this time.  “You were betting on whether or not I would quit?”

 

Garp laughed good-naturedly.  “Don’t take it to heart, Kuzan.  Us old men need something to do to pass the time.  And I already knew you wouldn't work under Akainu.  Might as well make some money off of that.”

 

Kuzan couldn't believe Garp sometimes, but Garp wouldn't be Garp if he wasn't this carefree, and dragging Sengoku into his pace as well.

 

“Still, it’s a pity,” Sengoku commented.  “The Navy has already suffered in terms of manpower.  To lose a major part of the upper echelon as well...”

 

“There’ll be others,” Kuzan said dismissively, somewhat uncomfortable with the implied compliment in Sengoku’s words.  “And Kizaru will still be around.”

 

They rounded a corner, and Kuzan was relieved to see his office doors.  His leg was near trembling at this point.

 

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to pack my bags,” Kuzan declared.  “And then I'm going to go have some fun slapping my resignation on Akainu’s desk.  I've been looking forward to that for about a week now.”

 

Garp snickered again while Sengoku announced that he was going to pretend he had contracted selective deafness, silently levelling a cautionary look on Kuzan at the same time.

 

Kuzan could understand that.  None of them knew exactly how the world was going to change with Akainu at the helm of one of the Three Great Powers; frankly, he wouldn't be surprised if the man did something drastic like getting rid of the Shichibukai for technically being pirates in the end.  Akainu’s Absolute Justice was ruthless.  Given half a chance, the man would execute innocent civilians if they were related to pirates.

 

So it was a very real possibility that Akainu might even go so far as to eventually order the capture of all ex-Marines who refused to stay with the Navy even as instructors or general inspectors, just in case they turned rogue.

 

That was the exact reason Kuzan wouldn't – couldn't – stay under Akainu’s command though; he could never concur with laws like that, and he’d follow through with that decision to the very end.

 

**{2}**

 

                “I see.”

 

                Kuzan returned the flat look Akainu was sending his way with a bland one of his own.  Between them on Akainu’s desk laid Kuzan’s resignation form.

 

                “Well, that’s a shame,” Akainu bit out almost scathingly.  “The Navy could've benefited from your continued service.”

 

                Kuzan shrugged unconcernedly.  “We’ve always had a difference of opinions, Akainu.  You should’ve seen this coming.”

 

                His old colleague’s lips thinned with displeasure.  “I did.  However, I was hoping you could put our differences aside for the good of the world.  I see that was a waste of my time.”

 

                Kuzan grunted, being careful not to show his discomfort as he partially concentrated on not letting his ice prosthetic melt inside his shoe.  He’d made sure to clean up a bit before facing Akainu (and Akainu had done the same; Kuzan could only detect a slight stiffness in the way his colleague was standing).  It wouldn't do to allow the other man to think that Kuzan wasn't back in top form already, or at least close to it.

 

                “Well now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Kuzan kept his frame relaxed as he turned for the door and waved a lazy hand over his shoulder.  “I’ll be going.  ...Good luck, Sakazuki.”

 

                He meant it too, or at least as much as possible under the circumstances.  Despite the animosity that they held towards each other, Kuzan had known Akainu for over three decades now.  Akainu was six years older, but they’d been everything from ensigns to captains to commodores and all the way up to admirals together, along with Kizaru who was even older but had been grouped with them on more than one occasion.  Kuzan didn't like Akainu and downright despised his morals, but it still made him feel... not wistful but close, now that they would really be going their separate ways.  He might actually miss all this.

 

                Kuzan was startled out of his thoughts when the blast of a cannon shook the base and almost made him fall against the doorway.

 

A petty officer raced in before Kuzan could begin figuring out if there had been a cannon mishap or some daft pirates had decided to attack Marineford yet again.  The officer hastily saluted both of them before reporting to Akainu, “Sir!  Officers detected a Devil Fruit user running around the Oris Plaza!  We fired on sight but Garp-chuujou- I mean Garp-san and Sengoku-san are stopping our attacks!  Should we suspend fire?”

Kuzan’s head snapped around.  “What?  Akainu, what have you done?”

 

The fleet admiral looked infuriatingly self-satisfied.  “I have authorized several new protocols to better protect the Navy bases, including stricter regulations for those entering headquarters, a fire-on-sight procedure for the officers manning the parapet defences, and a ground patrol to take care of any unidentified individuals on Navy territory.

 

“And either move Garp and Sengoku out of the way or avoid them,” Akainu directed to the petty officer with an annoyed frown.  The officer saluted again and sprinted off before Kuzan could stop him.  “They most likely haven’t heard of the new-”

 

“He’s with me,” Kuzan cut him off, not certain whether he was beyond incredulous or beyond angry.  “ _I_ brought him.  Call off your men, Akainu.”

 

Akainu’s frown morphed into a scowl.  “You brought a potential enemy into-”

 

“He’s not a potential anything!”  Kuzan snapped.  “He saved my life.  He isn’t a pirate.  For God’s sakes, Akainu, opening fire in the middle of a populated area now?  There are civilians out there!”

 

“Not for long,” Akainu said disdainfully.  “They will be transported to the island where the new Marine Headquarters is stationed.  In the meantime-”

 

“And in the meantime, they’re all potential targets?”  Kuzan barely managed to keep his tone civil.  Akainu could rile him up like no one else.  “This is like Ohara all over again!”

 

“And you’re still as soft as you were back then!”  Akainu barked back, temper rising.  Half the office shimmered with a heat haze while the other half began frosting over, crackling white creeping across the floor and crawling up the walls as Kuzan instinctively retaliated.  “All pirates must be exterminated, no matter the cost!  That is the Navy’s Absolute Justice!”

 

“That’s _your_ justice,” Kuzan corrected, but decided against quarrelling further as the base shook with another explosion.  “Nevermind, I have better things to do than hash this out with you again.”

 

Wheeling around, he left the office without another backwards glance, strides forceful enough to hide his limp.

 

He took it back.  He wasn't going to miss this _at all_.

 

**{2}**

 

                Kuzan half-hobbled outside, his bags slung over one shoulder and his bike in hand, just as another dozen cannonballs rocketed forward from somewhere out of sight and straight into the plaza.  Luckily, the place had already cleared of civilians, and Garp and Sengoku were handling the attacks with ease, though while the former was taunting the attackers affably, the latter had an ominous frown on his face that didn't bode well for anyone once this was over.

 

                Harry on the other hand was crouched on the ground a few feet behind Garp and Sengoku, and seemed to be poking the ground for some reason.

 

                “Kid, watch out!”

 

                On hindsight, Kuzan thought it was a bit odd for Harry to be referred to as a kid seeing as he _was_ an adult, but then again, Garp still called Kuzan ‘brat’ sometimes.

 

                At the moment though, Garp was juggling five cannonballs, Sengoku was deflecting another five, but the last two had slipped past them, heading straight for Harry’s unprotected back.

 

                Kuzan swore but there was no way he was going to get there in time, especially not with his leg in the condition it was in.

 

                To everyone’s general shock, Harry merely glanced up with a petulant expression on his face and flapped one hand in a careless motion as if he was swatting away a fly.

 

And just like that, the incoming cannonballs-

 

                -disappeared.

 

                Kuzan paused halfway across the plaza as the entire area fell silent.  Even the officers operating the cannons stopped firing as disbelief permeated the air.

 

                There was no resulting explosion, no smoke, nothing to indicate that there had been an assault in the first place.  The cannonballs were simply _gone_.

 

                And Harry, as oblivious as ever, simply turned back to whatever he was looking at, his voice clear to everyone within hearing distance in the uncommonly silent square.

 

                “...We already knew it was going to lead away from here.  ...How would I know?  Everything here’s foreign to me.  If anything, _you_ should know this place backwards.  ...What, memory failing you in your old age?”

 

                “N- Now’s our chance!  Fire-”

 

                Kuzan didn't spare the officers half a glance as he released his power and raised a gigantic wall of ice across the plaza, blocking the path of the cannons.

 

                “You alright, Harry?”  He enquired placidly as he limped past Garp and Sengoku, successfully ignoring the casual display of strength earlier.

 

                Harry looked up at him, a rare frown marring his features.  “No I'm not.  But that’s okay; I wasn't expecting much anyway.”

 

                Kuzan’s brow knitted as he tried – and failed – to decipher what Harry was talking about now.  His gaze fell on the piece of floor Harry was hovering over, and then stiffened when he realized where they were all standing.

 

                This was the exact spot where Portgas D. Ace had died.

 

                And judging by the preoccupied look on Garp’s face, the ex-vice-admiral had already recognized that much.  Sengoku seemed to be coming to the same conclusion a second after Kuzan.

 

                “Harry?”  Kuzan leaned his weight against his bike so that he could at least stoop down a little without crouching down completely.  “What exactly are you doing?”

 

                Harry’s gaze sharpened, and Kuzan knew before the younger man spoke that he wasn't going to understand any more than he had understood all the other puzzling things Harry had said before.

 

                So he was pleasantly surprised when he actually did understand parts of it.

 

                “D.’s are notoriously troublesome – do you know why?”  Harry cocked his head, green gaze gleaming eerily.  “Because they don’t die until they finish what they set out to do.  Until they find what they’re looking for, until they grasp what they are seeking, until their life has been lived to the fullest extent, not in terms of time but in how much they _accomplish_ and how well they accomplish it, they _do not die_.  That is the way of this world.”

 

                Harry paused, and Kuzan could've cut the tension in the air with a knife.

 

                “Who killed this one?”  Harry asked, and some of the absentmindedness from before returned.

 

                Kuzan hid a wince at the blunt question.  Garp’s expression had become somewhat fixed.

 

                “...That would be Akainu,” Kuzan answered after a moment.  “...You said you’re only here to look around though.”

 

                _Not harm anyone._

 

The warning went unspoken but Harry seemed to hear it just fine.  The younger man smiled again, affable and distracted.  “Don’t worry, Kiji.  Things are a mess as it is.”

 

Kuzan had no idea _what_ was a mess but he did relax minutely at the assurance.  As much as he disliked Akainu, he didn't necessarily want to see the man dead (because clearly, Harry was deceptively stronger than Kuzan had first assumed), not to mention he _was_ the fleet admiral and the Navy would take a severe blow if its leader was somehow done in by an unknown (and Kuzan would hate to have to fight against the person who had saved him in favour of siding with his old colleague).

 

“Is that him?”  Harry rose to his feet and pointed over Kuzan’s shoulder.  They all turned and caught sight of Akainu walking towards them (Kuzan was rather gratified to see the way Akainu held his left arm closer to his side than usual).

 

“Yes-” Kuzan managed to get out before Harry was off like a shot, rushing up to the narrowed-eyed fleet admiral without prudence.  Kuzan’s hand twitched when he glimpsed Akainu’s magma momentarily coating the older man’s own hands.

 

“Hi!  You’re Inu, right?”  Harry greeted cheerily, and Kuzan had to swallow a smile, the effort to keep a straight face when looking at the dark glower on Akainu’s features almost too much for him.

 

“Kuzan, where did you find him?”  Garp’s voice was pitched low, none of his typical humour colouring his words.

 

“I didn’t find him,” Kuzan said shortly.  “He found me.  When I woke up, I was in a cave on Punk Hazard, and half my injuries were almost healed.  Kinda incredible considering the fact that that was only three days after the battle ended.”

 

“His... abilities seem like they originate from three different Devil Fruits rather than one,” Sengoku observed gravely.

 

 _Four_ , Kuzan amended silently, thinking of the impossible bathroom.  _Although that could be related to the disappearing ability.  If he can make things disappear, it stands to reason that he can also do the opposite._

 

“You think he’s like Blackbeard?”  Garp interjected, arms crossed.

 

Kuzan glanced from one retiree to the other and figured it was time to leave.  As curious as he was about Harry’s oddities, he had always been the type to take things in stride and go with the flow.  Harry was powerful but wasn't out to destroy Marineford, and that was really all Kuzan needed to know at the moment.

 

So without waiting for any more speculations thrown out there, he made his way over to Harry, catching the tail-end of the younger man’s words.

 

“-why it’s called taking a life, you see?  Once you take it, a part of it is yours forever until you pass on.  But you took a D.’s life and he wasn't supposed to pass on yet so I need the part you have-”

 

“Alright,” Kuzan cut in, effectively putting a stop to Harry’s rambling and pulling him away from an increasingly foul-tempered Akainu.  “Harry, we have to leave.  Finish up your sightseeing and say goodbye to Inu-san here, okay?”

 

Kuzan thoroughly enjoyed the blistering glare Akainu sent his way, but it was what Harry did next that caught his attention.

 

The younger man extended a hand towards Akainu, fingers closing around thin air in a way that looked as if Harry had taken hold of something before pulling away from Akainu once more.

 

And in the space of one heartbeat to the next, Kuzan could've sworn he had seen a flash of orange flame mixed with golden light.

 

And for some peculiar reason, that single glimpse instantly reminded him of the deceased Fire Fist.

 

Akainu must've at least sensed something as well because, in the blink of an eye, both of the fleet admiral’s fists were bubbling with magma.

 

Kuzan didn't waste any time, thrusting his bags into Harry's chest to propel him backwards before shaping his ice into a jagged, razor-sharp spear.  Tension skyrocketed between them.

 

At the back of his mind, Kuzan spared a second to muse – with more than a little ironic amusement – that it was a good thing nobody outside of the higher-ranking Marines knew of the rough dynamics between the Navy admirals.  To the world, Aokiji, Akainu, and Kizaru presented a united force, and for the most part, they could put aside their differences during battle, but in the privacy of a Marine base with no enemies to contend with, Kuzan and Akainu had given Sengoku more than his fair share of headaches whenever they were at each other’s throats (which was at least half the time; the other half was spent with Kuzan disappearing off on his own to avoid any confrontations with his counterpart), and it didn't help that Kizaru, in his own laidback way, goaded them on for his own entertainment value.

 

Frankly, there would be a lot less faith in the Navy if word ever got out about just how badly the vaunted ‘Greatest Military Powers’ got along.

 

“Kiji, don’t fight.”

 

Kuzan stiffened, still focused on Akainu as he glanced quickly at Harry.  The younger man was smiling serenely at him but there was a steely glint in his eye that Kuzan somehow managed to translate to _you’re still injured, I'm the one who healed you, I know best, so cease and desist_.

 

Huh.  Maybe Harry’s insanity really was contagious.

 

“Stabbing people before you leave is bad manners,” Harry tacked on sensibly.  A twitch developed over one of Akainu’s eyes.

 

Kuzan suppressed a chuckle and sighed instead, allowing his ice to retreat but still keeping a wary eye on Akainu as he began half-ushering, half-shoving Harry in the direction of the outer walls.

 

“Fine, fine, let’s get going then,” Kuzan humoured him, and then did a double-take when he noticed his luggage trailing after Harry in the air like a line of ducklings.  “Harry...”

 

“Hmm?”  Harry blinked at him.

 

Kuzan heaved another sigh, using his bike as a bit of a crutch as they walked on.  “Nothing.  Just... don’t drop any of my bags.”

 

“I won’t!”  Harry whirled around and waved at a murderous-looking Akainu.  “Bye, Inu!  We might see each other again one day!  And watch your blood pressure, okay?  It’s getting a bit high.”

 

Kuzan couldn't help it.  He gave up the fight to remain professional and snorted with laughter instead.

 

“AOKIJI!”  Akainu bellowed from behind him, apparently choosing to take his ire out on the person he could at least yell at without feeling completely baffled.

 

“We’re outta here,” Kuzan grabbed Harry by his cloak again before using his ice to lift him upwards and back onto the stone ramparts just as a waterfall of magma crashed into his ice and melted it in the span of half a second.

 

Kuzan paused only long enough to offer a respectful nod towards Garp and Sengoku – the former who was laughing openly again and the latter who had one hand over his eyes – before leaping straight off the battlements, creating another ice floe under them as they plummeted towards the sea.

 

Without being told, Harry grinned almost maniacally and snapped his fingers once more as Kuzan put him down again.  The ice floe beneath them immediately took to the air, leaving a flock of stunned spectators behind.

 

As Marineford disappeared from sight, Kuzan settled down on the ice again, securing his bike as well before kicking off his left shoe and ridding himself of his prosthetic, and then leaning back and closing his eyes.

 

“Kiji?  Where are we going?”

 

“Don’t know,” Kuzan yawned.  “I'm tired though, so I'm going to take a nap.  You in a rush to get somewhere?”

 

“Mm... nope.  Well, yes.  But not right now.”

 

“Okay,” Kuzan tucked his arms behind his head.  “Fly around for a while then.  When I wake up, I’ll give you directions to anywhere you want to go, and we’ll part ways from there.  Agreed?”

 

“Agreed!”  Came the chirped reply.  A moment later, their speed slowed, and the last thought on Kuzan’s mind was that it would be a pity that he wouldn't be able to travel this way anymore once they went their separate ways.  So long as Harry wasn't threatening to crash them into walls, it really wasn't so bad.

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or One Piece.

                “Alright, listen up – this is one beli, this is a five, and this is a ten.  Coins are worth half a beli each, unless you’re on Amazon Lily, but they use gor as their currency which is all coins, and you won’t ever go there anyway so forget about it.  On the other hand, extol is used in Skypiea, but they mostly use bills, like we do, so if you ever go there, you just have to remember that it’s ten thousand extol to one beli, understand?”

 

                Kuzan ignored the odd looks he was receiving from the other patrons in the bar as he waited patiently for Harry to pick through the various bills and coins.

 

                After leaving Marineford, they had ended up circling around back to Sabaody Archipelago when Harry had said that he didn't really have a destination in mind (something about not the right time yet and a trail gone cold for now; needless to say, Kuzan hadn't understood but he’d nodded all the same).

 

                So they’d returned to the Archipelago since Harry had caught a glimpse of it on their way out of Marineford and had been fascinated by the bubbles.  Originally, Kuzan had planned to leave it at that – one more word of thanks and a quick goodbye before parting ways.  He’d been leaving too, walking – limping – away, bags slung over one shoulder as he mulled over whether or not he should sell his bike since he wouldn't really be able to ride it again anytime soon, and then he’d done the most damning thing he could have possibly done at that point – he’d looked back.

 

                Despite Harry’s protests, Kuzan had pushed the correct amount of beli onto the younger man to replace what Harry had exchanged for the food he had bought when Kuzan had been laid out in Punk Hazard.  It was only fair, after all.

 

                There were all sorts of greedy borderline criminals on Sabaody Archipelago though, and they must've had eyes on Harry from the moment he had arrived, marking him as an easy target because the idiots had swarmed Harry the second Kuzan’s back had been turned (literally; they hadn't even waited for Kuzan to round a corner).

 

                Taking advantage of Harry’s mental state, they had – fortunately for them – _not_ resorted to shaking him down, and had instead spun sob stories or waxed fabrications about needing to pay to walk past this or that building.

 

                And of course, Harry had paid up, handing out beli like candy, and mixing up ones and tens (Kuzan wasn't sure how this was possible seeing how each bill had their amount printed on it) much to the swindlers’ delight.

 

                It had spiked a startling amount of irritation in Kuzan when he’d glanced back and noticed, and he had dearly wanted to freeze them all, but in the end, after heaving a resigned sigh, he had settled for returning to Harry’s side and slanting a flat stare at the crooks instead.  They hadn't recognized his face right away but one of Kuzan’s hands freezing over with ice had rapidly filled their eyes with horrified realization and sent them packing, hastily leaving behind everything they had tried to take from Harry.

 

                After that, Kuzan had dragged a confused Harry off to a bar, determined to at least teach him how to count his money properly before the younger man ended up with nothing.

 

                And now here they were, sitting in Shakky’s Rip-off Bar (the rip-off bit was no joke, but Shakky’s was also one of the few establishments on the entire Archipelago that wouldn't stand for bar fights every five minutes and actually served adequate drinks and food despite being very pricey) as Kuzan laid out the different-valued bills and coins on the table and explained the world currency as simply as possible.

 

                “Mm...” Harry shuffled through the stack of tens.  “There isn’t anything higher?  Like twenties or fifties?”

 

                A derisive snigger came from some partially drunk customer on their left; Kuzan paid him no mind, especially since Harry didn't seem to have heard.

 

                “No,” Kuzan tapped a finger against the stack of ones.  “There are only ones, fives, and tens, with ones being the most commonly used.”

 

He paused, and then mentally shrugged, voice lowering as he continued, “And here’s a Marine secret: all beli are lined – along this edge here – with a layer of kairoseki.  There’s nowhere near enough to affect Devil Fruit users of course, but even a little of this stuff is harder than diamond so it can’t be ripped or cut from this side, and that’s how Marines check for counterfeits.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened, and as Kuzan had half-expected, he instantly plucked up a bill and tried his hand at ripping it.  The bill stayed intact of course, and Kuzan had to stifle a smile that, oddly enough, felt almost fond.

 

“That’s wicked!”  Harry concluded excitedly, and Kuzan had to smother a laugh this time.  And ‘wicked’?  He understood the gist of the word but he couldn't say he had ever heard it used in that context before.

 

“Keep it to yourself okay?”  Kuzan warned lightly.  Harry nodded vigorously, still distracted with trying to find a fake beli amongst the heap of money.

 

Kuzan let him at it, reaching for his drink instead as he leaned back in his chair.  He had seated them – out of habit; Marine training did come in handy after all – in a corner with a full view of the rest of the room as well as the door, so when it swung open and an old man walked in, loping, agile gait at odds with his age, Kuzan noticed immediately.

 

“Back already?”  The bartender greeted from behind the counter, surprise evident in her features.  “I thought you were going to stay with Monkey-chan for two years.”

 

Kuzan narrowed his eyes, hand already reaching for his bags in case they had to make a quick getaway.

 

Silvers Rayleigh hadn't been seen on Sabaody since the Battle of Marineford was being broadcasted.  Prior to that, Kizaru had come back in a sulk – or as much of a sulk as he was willing to portray anyway – about the Dark King preventing him from reaching the Straw Hat crew before Bartholomew Kuma had sent them flying for some reason.  Kizaru had commented on how, despite being ‘retired’, Rayleigh hadn't lost any of his edge, and Kuzan knew that if Kizaru at full strength couldn't get the upper hand over the Dark King, then he, with his current handicap, wouldn't stand a snowball’s chance in hell against the man.

 

And never let it be said that Kuzan didn't know how to pick his battles.  He’d never been ruled by pride after all, and he was no longer a Marine; he had no obligation to fight anyone.

 

Of course, Kuzan had heard that Roger’s old first mate wasn't one to pick fights, was actually of the fairly decent sort for a pirate, and hadn't even caused any significant trouble ever since his captain had been executed, but that was all just hearsay; Kuzan had never personally met Rayleigh until now so he had no way of knowing whether or not the rumours were true.  The man was a _pirate_ after all – albeit retired – and ninety-nine times out of a hundred, pirates were nowhere near as ridiculously easygoing as the Mugiwara boy and his crew were, especially towards known Marines.  The news that Kuzan had resigned probably hadn't spread that far yet, and he doubted that many pirates would make the differentiation anyway.

 

And had the lady bartender just mentioned ‘Monkey-chan’?  Coupled with the crazy stunt that Mugiwara had pulled with the Ox Bell, Kuzan had already guessed that Garp’s grandson wasn't as dead as most people thought even after the boy had disappeared off the face of the planet for a year now – people like him were akin to cockroaches; they just _didn't die_ – but Kuzan had no idea where Mugiwara had gotten to, never mind the fact that it looked like the Dark King had taken the kid under his wing.

 

“Aa, I just left for a few days,” Rayleigh was saying, voice a gravelly timbre as he smiled at the woman.  “I didn’t want to leave him for even that long, and I’ll be heading back soon enough, but I couldn't miss...”

 

The Dark King trailed off, and Kuzan stiffened imperceptibly when Rayleigh’s gaze swept the bar, only stopping when he spotted their table.

 

Kuzan, while still keeping a close eye on the former pirate, also made sure not to be seen looking back.  It would be better in the long run to pretend not to have noticed the other man until they made their escape.  And speaking of escape, Kuzan mentally flicked through all the entrances inside the bar.

 

There was the front door, but they’d have to mow Rayleigh down to get to it.  The windows, but most of them already had customers seated next to them; the one that didn't was all the way on the other side of the room.  It looked like they’d have to go through the back.

 

 _How troublesome,_ Kuzan grumbled silently.  _Anyone else would've been better than this guy._

 

“Harry, we should leave now,” He muttered out loud, shaking open one of his bags and sweeping all the money into it with one hand.  He left enough to cover their drinks though; the bartender was famous for her violent predilections when it came to people not paying, and the last thing Kuzan needed was an enraged woman on his case.

 

“Eh?  Why?”  Harry huffed, reaching for the whiskey that Kuzan had watched – with no little trepidation – him order.  “I'm not finished my drink yet.”

 

In his peripheral vision, Kuzan saw Rayleigh turn and begin walking over in their direction, skirting around the other customers.

 

He mentally frowned.  The Dark King seemed wholly focused on Harry.

 

“I’ll buy you another one later,” Kuzan promised, gut tightening uneasily.  He really did frown this time when soft laughter reached his ears, and he glanced back down at Harry with an arched eyebrow.

 

“Relax, Kiji,” Harry told him, and some of the absentmindedness in the younger man’s expression receded.  “He won’t hurt us.”

 

Kuzan didn't relax but he remained in his seat, keeping his posture in a languid recline.  Strangely enough, it hadn't really occurred to him that there would be other people out there who might be acquainted with Harry as well.

 

“You know him?”  He asked tersely, finally raising his eyes to watch the Dark King’s approach.

 

Harry smiled enigmatically, draining the last of his whiskey before setting the glass down.  “We’ve met.  Some time ago.”

 

And then, in the next second, Harry had sprung to his feet and whirled around, startling more than one customer in the bar as he took three quick steps and leapt up, nimble as a cat as his arms wrapped around an already grinning Rayleigh’s neck.

 

“Silver!”  Harry cheered, swinging onto the man’s back like some sort of demented koala.  “But you’re still not silver!  First you were sunny, and now you’re snowy; you can’t be called Silver if you’re not silver!”

 

Rayleigh’s laughter echoed around the bar as the man himself shifted to accommodate the extra weight now hanging off his back.

 

“You haven’t changed a bit, little Godling,” Rayleigh replied, and Kuzan would have to be deaf not to hear the tones of affection in the Dark King’s voice.  “I thought my old eyes were finally failing me when your pocket watch started ticking again.”

 

The start of a pout surfaced on Harry’s face but a grin soon replaced it again as he slid off Rayleigh and skipped back over to the table, dragging the Dark King into the empty seat beside him.

 

“Oh, this is Kiji!”  Harry pointed at Kuzan, who was doing his level best to not look completely clueless.  “He helped me out a bit after I helped him out.  Kiji, this is Silver!  He’s really nice!”

 

Kuzan was beginning to think he would've been better off if he had just walked away when he’d still had the chance.

 

Five minutes later, the bartender had kicked everyone out and closed up for the day, and all four of them were seated comfortably around one table.

 

“So how do you know each other?”  Shakky asked inquisitively, which was exactly what Kuzan wanted to know.

 

Harry was sipping at another glass of whiskey ( _half-price since you’re Ray-san’s friend_ ) so Rayleigh was the one who answered.

 

“Well, the last time we saw each other was... I’d say... around twenty-four years ago now,” Rayleigh nodded thoughtfully to himself.  “That’s about right.  I believe we met a year before Roger became the Pirate King.”

 

Kuzan glanced at Harry, who offered no contradictions.  Twenty-four years ago?  Harry couldn't be a day over thirty at most; what would a six-year-old be doing hanging around the Roger Pirates?

 

“I’m not as young as I look, Kiji,” Harry interrupted his thoughts, a secretive smile on his face.  “I’m young in body, old in soul.”

 

Kuzan raised an eyebrow.  “And you were running around with pirates twenty-four years ago?”

 

“Yup!”  Harry nodded, and then paused.  “Well, not really.  I wasn't always around.  I have other things to do, you know.  But Goldie let me on his ship whenever I wanted, and Silver and everyone else were really fun to be with, so I visited whenever I could.”

 

“The little Godling was an honoured guest,” Rayleigh confirmed, reaching for his own drink.  “He did Roger a favour.”

 

“It wasn't a favour, Silver,” Harry denied.  “It was a bargain.”

“It wasn't a bad bargain, all things considered,” Rayleigh returned, gaze flickering with age-old memories.  “...How is he?”

 

‘He’?  Kuzan knew he was missing at least half the conversation but who were they talking about now?  Roger was dead so it obviously couldn't be him.

 

Harry’s eyes glinted unnaturally.  “Happy.  His service to me is over; he did a good job.  He’s with his wife now.  And ready to throw a party when you finally get there.”

 

Something loosened in Rayleigh’s expression, contentment settling over the man like a cloak.  “Good; that’s good.  I always wondered, even after...”

 

“Mm, yeah, I understand,” Harry smiled again, and Kuzan almost did a double-take.  For once, it was a perfectly normal smile, not the hyper one or the one edged with playful insanity.

 

“What about his son?”  Rayleigh enquired next, and while Harry didn't lose his smile, his features darkened rather ominously.

 

“Ah, about that,” Harry absently swirled the contents of his glass.  “There’s been some... complications.  You know, Silver, souls are tricky things, especially when some don't come on time and others come too early.  This world is like a seesaw right now, and if things don’t resolve soon, the seesaw will break.”

 

Kuzan was officially lost, as was Shakky if her expression was anything to go by, but Rayleigh’s features had taken on a sombre cast.

 

“So he’s not...?” Rayleigh’s eyes conveyed a silent question.

 

Harry shook his head.  “No, not yet.  But if I don’t fix it, he will be.  And it’s not his time yet.”

 

Rayleigh nodded contemplatively.  “It will make quite a few people very happy.”

 

Harry shrugged.  “Mm, you people – always so hung up on life and death, and trying to avoid me like the plague, like I’ve done something unforgiveable to the lot of you.  Hah!  As if I won’t get all of you in the end.”

 

Rayleigh chuckled, offering a commiserating pat to Harry’s shoulder.  “Most don’t know the truth, little Godling.”

 

“Don’t call me little!”  Harry groused, and just like that, the heavy atmosphere lifted.

 

“Why in the world do you call him ‘little Godling’?”  Shakky enquired, clearly skipping over all the parts she hadn't understood.  Then again, Kuzan figured asking about it would do no good; if either Harry or Rayleigh had wanted them to understand, they wouldn't have spoken in riddles and half-sentences.

 

“Well, he’s small,” Rayleigh pointed out with a smile, especially when Harry threw him a sullen look.  “And the Roger Pirates rarely ever called him anything else after that favour-”

 

“Bargain,” Harry insisted.

 

“-he did for Roger,” Rayleigh finished.  “Let’s just say you had to be there to understand.”

 

Kuzan couldn't disagree with that seeing as he was completely at sea with all the evasive explanations.

 

So he only sighed and downed the rest of his drink ( _full price for you because you’re a Marine, and after what happened to Monkey-chan and his crew, I'm not all that inclined to forgive_ ).

 

“So, you've quit the Marines, I hear,” Rayleigh was looking at him now with appraising eyes as Harry swiveled around in his seat to use the Dark King’s arm as a backrest.  Obligingly, Rayleigh adjusted his position for the younger man’s whims.

 

“Aa,” Kuzan nodded, seeing no harm in it.  He was already sharing a table with a known pirate; might as well exchange a word or two with the man.  “There have been some changes within the Navy.”

 

                “That you don’t agree with,” Rayleigh remarked shrewdly, but didn't push.  “Well, everybody needs a change of scenery now and then.”

 

                ‘Change of scenery’ was an understatement, Kuzan mused wryly.  He’d gone from being a top Marine admiral to a crippled ex-Marine with an eccentric tagalong who just happened to be friends with a big shot old-timer.

 

                “Well, I can’t stay long,” Rayleigh announced, polishing off his drink and gently easing Harry off his shoulder before standing up.  “I really just came by to say hello to an old friend.  It wouldn't do to leave my apprentice alone for too long.

 

“Harry,” Rayleigh reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew a black pocket watch.  “I never did ask; do you want this back?”

 

Harry looked amused as he peered up at the Dark King.  “Keep it; it’s not like I need it.  In fact, I thought you would've already thrown it away.”

 

“And miss out on any future visits from you?”  Rayleigh pocketed the watch again.  “I think not.  Good luck, Harry.  You know if you ever need anything, all you have to do is say the word.”

 

Harry nodded once more with wise eyes and a wistful smile, and Kuzan watched as Rayleigh inclined his head in the younger man’s direction, really more of a respectful bow than anything else, before he nodded cordially at Kuzan, and then glanced at Shakky, the two leaving the bar to say their goodbyes.

 

                Kuzan allowed a moment of silence to fill the air before prompting curiously, “What was that watch?”

 

Harry blinked at him, and then produced a large pocket watch of his own out of nowhere, this one coloured a polished silver.  He flicked it open, and Kuzan cocked an eyebrow at the two silver hands currently pointing at the word ‘HOME’ and ‘GRAND LINE: PARADISE’ respectively.

 

“It’s called a Life Clock,” Harry told him.  “The hands are Silver.  They switch when he moves.  They’ll fall off when he dies.”

 

Kuzan’s brow furrowed.  “So you mean these are locations?  ‘Home’ is a bit... vague, isn’t it?  What if he moves house?”

 

Harry snickered, passing it to Kuzan when he reached out for it.  A tap of Harry’s finger against the clock face changed ‘HOME’ to ‘SABAODY ARCHIPELAGO’.  Another tap changed it to ‘SHAKKY’S RIP-OFF BAR’.  “Yeah, but I can make it more specific if I tweak it a bit.  It looks like Silver considers this place his home right now.”

 

Which was quite handy, Kuzan had to admit as he studied the watch closely.  There were other inscriptions too – ‘TRAVELLING’, ‘WORKING’, ‘FISHMAN ISLAND’, ‘REVERSE MOUNTAIN’, and even two that said ‘IMPEL DOWN’ and ‘MARINE HEADQUARTERS’ – and then there was the second, smaller hand that pointed at the tinier lettering on the face of the clock – ‘EAST BLUE’, ‘WEST BLUE’, ‘NORTH BLUE’, ‘SOUTH BLUE’, ‘RED LINE’, ‘CALM BELT’, ‘SKY OCEAN’, ‘SEA FLOOR’, ‘MOON’, and ‘GRAND LINE: PARADISE’ along with ‘GRAND LINE: NEW WORLD’,

 

Kuzan narrowed his eyes.  Even ‘ALL BLUE’ was on here.  He had always thought that ocean was just a legend.

 

“Did you make this?”  Kuzan closed the watch and flipped it over.  The entire thing was silver, with _Silvers Rayleigh_ printed in elegant black script on the cover.

 

“Yup,” Harry nodded.  “And I'm the only one who can.”

 

                “And this really works?”  Kuzan asked, carefully handing it back.

 

                Harry grinned and turned the face back to him just as the longer hand spun once clockwise before stopping on ‘TRAVELLING’.  A second later, the front door of the bar opened again and Shakky walked back in.

 

                “Well, he’s gone,” The woman informed them, making her way over.  “Are the two of you clearing off anytime soon?”

 

                Harry had already whisked the watch out of sight, and was now on his feet once again, waving cheekily at the bartender before bouncing for the door.  “We’re leaving now!  It was nice meeting you, Shakky!”

 

                It figured that the only name Harry managed to get right would be the one that had already been shortened.

 

                “Hmm, he’s almost as adorable as Monkey-chan,” Shakky commented before pinning Kuzan with a hard stare, arms crossed and stance uncompromising.

 

                Kuzan inwardly rolled his eyes as he clambered to his feet, laying down enough money to cover everything as well as leaving a small tip before heading for the door as well, though at a more sedate pace.

 

                “Do come again,” Shakky called after him, sounding equal parts smug and amused.

 

                No way, Kuzan swore.  With the way his luck had been going recently, he’d probably meet a Yonko in this cursed place next time.

 

**{3}**

 

                “Harry?”  Kuzan was lying on his back on the flying ice floe (this seemed to be their new way of travelling) as they zoomed away from Sabaody with no certain destination in mind.  Somehow, they had ended up sticking together despite their previous agreement.

 

                “Hmm?”

 

                “Back at Marineford,” Kuzan continued idly.  “What did you mean about the D.’s?”

 

                “I meant what I said,” Harry said matter-of-factly, and then adding, “And I say what I mean.”

 

                Kuzan released a long-suffering sigh.  Well that was informative.

 

                For a long while, only the whistle of the wind sounded around them.  The sky today was the sort of endless blue that almost hurt to look at.

 

“...I had a friend once,” Kuzan really wasn't sure why he was talking about this but the words kept coming.  “He was a D as well.  Jaguar D. Saul.”

 

“Mm.  You killed him.”

 

Kuzan stilled at the blunt allegation before glancing to the side.  Harry’s back was facing him at the moment.  “...How do you know that?”

 

“When you take a life, a part of it will stay with you until you pass on as well,” Harry explained offhandedly.  Kuzan recalled the one-sided conversation that the younger man had had with Akainu.  “That’s why it’s called taking a life.  You have a part of his.  It doesn't give you control over him of course – he’s already moved on – but... well, souls are tricky things.  They’re... adaptable.”

 

“‘Adaptable’?”  Kuzan repeated skeptically.  “And how exactly do you know all this?”

 

Harry glanced back at him.  “Souls are my specialty, you could say.  They’re my job.”

 

Kuzan’s eyebrows rose.  “You’re... job?  Like what, the Grim Reaper?”

 

He had meant it as a joke but Harry tipped another smile at him and told him cheerfully, “Nope, that’s Death.  You could say I'm the... Grim Reaper’s babysitter.”

 

And then Harry winced a little, head craning around to throw a sulky look somewhere to his left.  “No need to be violent.  ...What do you mean _I’m_ the one who needs a babysitter?  I do not!”

 

Kuzan watched the one-sided exchange with no little trepidation.  Who the hell was Harry talking to, honestly?  The younger man was undoubtedly insane but he didn't seem the type to have imaginary friends.

 

“He accomplished what he was meant to do,” Harry remarked abruptly, and Kuzan glanced sharply at him again.  “That’s what D.’s do.  They don’t pass on until it’s their time, and it’s not their time until they accomplish what they were meant to do.”

 

“And he was supposed to die by my hand then?”  That question came out harsher than Kuzan had planned.  Hell, he hadn't even planned to blurt out something like that because that would mean he actually believed at least some of Harry’s crazy comments.

 

“Meh,” Harry flipped a dismissive hand in the air.  “If not by you, then someone else.  Death is a part of Life.  Life is a part of Death.  And it’s not like you’ll never see him again.”

 

Kuzan blinked in consternation.  “...What?”

 

Harry slanted a sidelong look at him, green eyes glittering.  “You Humans.  Most of you think that Death is the be all and end all.  Doesn't it scare you to think that way?  That there’s absolutely nothing after you die?”

 

Kuzan felt a cold chill run down his spine.  “Well I wouldn't say there’s _nothing_ , per se.  But I wouldn't know for sure.  I certainly don’t believe that it’s one happy paradise waiting for us all.”

 

Harry snorted with laughter.  “Definitely not.  Or at least it’s not exactly a paradise.  But then again, paradise is in the eye of the beholder.”

 

“Isn’t that beauty?”  Kuzan pointed out.

 

“That too,” Harry agreed readily.  “See?  You’re starting to get it.”

 

Frankly, Kuzan hadn't the faintest clue what he was starting to get, just that if there was even a drop of truth in what Harry was saying, then Kuzan might or might not see his old friend again one day.

 

On the other hand, that might just be wishful thinking on his part.

 

Up front, Harry began to hum.  Moments later, in an unfamiliar tune, the younger man burst into song,

 

“ _To see a World in a grain of sand,  
And a Heaven in a wild flower._

**_Hold Infinity in the palm of your ha~and,_ ** **_  
_** **_And Eternity in an hour._ ** **”**

 

                Kuzan sighed and sprawled out on his back once more as Harry’s voice rose and fell with the summer breeze.  On the whole, it wasn't a bad way to kill an afternoon, even if the conversation leaned towards the somewhat deprecating side.

 

**{3}**

 

                “Oh!  Rayleigh!  You’re back!”  Luffy waved happily at the familiar white-haired figure striding towards him.  Quickly, he scrambled down the huge tree stump he had been doing some Zoro-push-ups on and jogged over to meet his mentor.  “Did you get to see your nakama?”

 

                Rayleigh chuckled, ruffling Luffy’s hair in a way that reminded him of when Shanks used to do the same.

 

                “Aa,” Rayleigh nodded.  “He was in Shakky’s bar.  It seems he even befriended an ex-Marine.”

 

                The old man laughed at this but Luffy, brow furrowing as he tried to ignore the memories that came with even _thinking_ about Marines, asked, “Which ex-Marine?  Actually, I don’t think I know any.”

 

                Rayleigh quirked an odd half-smile.  “You’d know this one, I think.  He recently retired.  The one called Aokiji.”

 

                Luffy froze, eyes widening.  “AOKIJI?!  But- But that guy- He’s an admiral!”

 

                “I believe admirals can retire too,” Rayleigh reminded him with a chuckle.  “I picked up a newspaper on my way back.  Sengoku has retired, and it seems Aokiji was one of the two candidates chosen for consideration as the next Fleet Admiral, recommended by Sengoku himself.  There was a battle for the position but Aokiji lost, so he quit.”

 

                Luffy gaped.  Out of all three Marines, it was Aokiji he... not _liked_ , but if there was one admiral he was okay with, it would be the ice guy.  Sure, he had delayed Ace in the escape, but it hadn't been Aokiji who had killed him, and Ace had even seemed to enjoy the challenge that the admiral had given him.

 

                So Luffy knew that Aokiji was strong; to hear that the man had been defeated...

 

                “Who was the other person?”  Luffy all but demanded.  “The guy Aokiji fought?”

 

                Rayleigh’s smile slipped away as he eyed Luffy intently.  “...It was Akainu.”

 

                Luffy all but stopped breathing.  The tight ball of anger and grief and hate that still lingered in his gut even after he had accepted his brother’s death burned in his chest.

 

                “Luffy,” Rayleigh gave his head a little shake.  “Don’t think too much on it.  Right now, you have to concentrate on your training.”

 

                Luffy sucked in a deep breath before swallowing hard and nodding determinedly.  Still, he couldn't help prodding, “So Akainu is the Fleet Admiral now?  And Aokiji quit because of that?  Why?  I thought they were friends.”

 

                “Mm,” Rayleigh sighed and pushed him in the direction of the forests.  “Not everything is as it seems, Luffy.  Sometimes, what certain things look like doesn't mean that’s really how it is.  It’s not my place to say though.  Maybe if you bump into Aokiji again one day, he might tell you himself.”

 

                Luffy scratched his head, confused, but let it go.  His instincts told him that there was no way he wouldn't meet someone as powerful as Aokiji again.  The Grand Line was funny that way; strong people always met strong people sooner or later.

 

                “What about your nakama?”  He persisted as they walked.

 

                “Oh he’s well enough,” Rayleigh grinned, eyes distant.  “I really didn't think I would see him again in this life so it was a nice surprise.”

 

                Luffy smiled.  He couldn't say he understood why Rayleigh thought he wouldn't see his friend again if they were still alive but he did know what it was like to miss a nakama after not seeing them for a long time.

 

                After all, he himself couldn't wait to meet up with his crew again.

 

                “Yosh!”  He cheered, leaping into the air and bounding ahead.  “Let’s get back to training!  The more I train, the stronger I’ll get when I see Zoro and the others again!”

 

                Luffy grinned as he heard Rayleigh pick up his pace from behind.  He wouldn't give up!  He still had to find One Piece and help his friends fulfill their dreams after all!

 

**{3}**

 

                “Hey, Kiji?”

 

                Kuzan grunted absently, more focused on picking his way through the underbrush of the island they had landed on for the night.  They had accidentally flown too long, and it wasn't until the sun had started setting that Kuzan had realized that there hadn't been any proper civilization nearby.  Their backup option had been to land on an unpopulated island to spend the night.

 

“Where should we go tomorrow?”

 

Kuzan paused, glancing over at his increasingly permanent travelling companion.  “I don’t know.  Where do you want to go?”

 

Harry cocked his head, balancing on a fallen tree trunk.  “I don’t know this world very well.  I just follow soul trails.”

 

Kuzan sighed.  “‘Soul trails’?  Dare I ask?”

 

Harry grinned and held up a finger.  “For example, I could follow Portgas D. Ace’s soul trail all the way back to where he was born if I wanted to now that I’ve checked the place where he sort of died.”

 

Kuzan raised an eyebrow.  “‘Sort of died’?  How can someone sort of die?”

 

“Easy!”  Harry vaulted forward and started walking on his hands.  “They pass on but they haven’t passed on completely yet.  You can’t go on unless you’re completely cleared.”

 

Kuzan rubbed a hand over his face.  “I’m almost afraid to say this but do you mean to tell me that Fire Fist _isn’t_ completely dead?”

 

Harry beamed at him.  “I told you you were starting to get it!”

 

Kuzan batted away a mosquito even as he studied Harry more closely for any trace of a lie.  “Oi, Harry, that’s not a good thing to fling around.”

 

Harry tilted his head inquisitively.  “Why not?  It’s the truth.”

 

Kuzan finally slowed to a stop, forcing Harry to pull up several feet ahead.  “There are people who wouldn't be happy to hear you say things like that, especially when the entire world knows that Fire Fist was killed by Akainu.”

 

Harry nodded firmly.  “Yes, he was killed by Inu, but he’s not dead.  There’s a difference, Kiji.  I should know.”

 

“Yeah?”  Kuzan’s eyes narrowed.  “And how would you know?  Who are you, really?”

 

All this earned him was an inscrutable smile that bordered on eerie.  “You’ll definitely find out one day, Kiji, even if it takes years and years and years.  I don’t think it will though.  You’re not as close-minded as most Humans are, and you're smart, so you’ll probably figure it out sooner or later.”

 

Kuzan, uncharacteristically enough, scowled as Harry sprang ahead again.  Another non-answer; wonderful.  He wasn't paid enough for this.

 

Oh wait; he wasn't being paid at all anymore.  Even better.

 

Heaving another sigh, he set off after the younger man again.  The most straightforward response he had gotten all day had been...

 

_“You could say I'm the... Grim Reaper’s babysitter.”_

 

And what the heck did that mean?  Kuzan wasn't even aware that the Grim Reaper _needed_ a babysitter, much less had one.

 

With a wordless grumble, Kuzan dodged a low branch and stepped out into a clearing.  “Harry, we’re stopping here.  Let’s set up-”

 

In the blink of an eye, a large garish orange tent was stationed in the middle of the clearing.

 

“-camp,” Kuzan finished, feeling like someone had blindsided him.  He shook his head.  _Why_ was he still surprised?  “Nevermind.  ...Could you change the colour?”

 

Harry cackled and the tent became a hot pink eyesore.  Kuzan twitched and shot the apparent magician a pointed look.  Harry pouted and the tent turned white with iceberg motifs.

 

Kuzan threw his hands in the air as Harry flounced off petulantly, clearly refusing to change it again.

 

Well, Kuzan _did_ like icebergs.

 

He couldn't even stir up the necessary amount of shock when he ducked into the tent and found the inside much bigger than the outside, complete with a bathroom, a kitchen, and even a fireplace.

 

He did brighten at the queen-sized bed in one of the small bedrooms though.  His leg was throbbing and he honestly hadn't slept in a proper bed in over two weeks.

 

“Harry?”  He called over his shoulder as he dropped off his bags in one corner of the room.  “I think we should stick together for a while longer.”

 

“Okay!”  Came the carefree reply.

 

 _Just until I find out exactly who and what you are,_ Kuzan tacked on mentally as he eased himself into an armchair.  _And in the meantime, living in tents like these really can’t hurt._

 

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